


Hello There

by compo67



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Jared, Dark, Dark Jensen Ackles, Hurt Jared Padalecki, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Physical Abuse, Prostitute Jared Padalecki, Prostitution, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Violence, Top Jensen Ackles, Underage Sex, Young Jared Padalecki, asshole Jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 01:55:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1286854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compo67/pseuds/compo67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rejection of a Soul Mate can end in death. Jared is a House boy ordered by a Guest. The Church controls everything--even the successful, Christian-themed show Supernatural--but that doesn't mean some of its members don't indulge. The star of Supernatural has a dark vice and everything to lose. [SPN kink meme fill March 2014.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hello There

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ ALL THE TAGS AND MY NOTES HERE. Proceed reading with caution. 
> 
> There are huge non-con elements and graphic depictions of abuse. The scene in which this takes place is detailed and twisted. You will not like Jensen in most of this fic and it's questionable how redeemable he is at the end. 
> 
> Can you forgive him? I wonder. 
> 
> The full prompt can be read on LJ here: http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/83793.html?thread=30971473#t30971473
> 
> The Soul Mate concept was tricky for me to write but I hope I got it. Jensen would live without Jared--remember that. It helps the ending. Italics mean Jensen's replying. The 'conversation' is a conversation between souls, therefore not in quotes. 
> 
> Any questions, etc. let me know. 
> 
> I'll treat you all to an extra sappy chapter of Punzel after this. I just had a hankering to write something awful and dark. Sorry. <3
> 
> Thanks for reading. 
> 
> (Oh, this is a one-shot. No verse here. I'd love to hear your versions of epilogues though.)

“Name.”

“What?”

“Your name.”

“Uhm… my… my real one?”

“This isn’t a difficult question, kid,” the guard growls, looming over Jared, adjusting the belt under his wide middle. “You’re on the list or you’re not and if you’re not, you’re wasting my fuckin’ time.”

The set is extensive and busy, filled with staff, crew, and some individuals in pressed business suits. It’s a typical Hollywood television show set, but it’s for the series Supernatural, which Jared has seen pieces of at the House. The television there isn’t for Family—it’s for Guests. Sometimes Jared will be in the parlor, entertaining a Guest, and he will catch glimpses of Dean Winchester and his angel sidekick Castiel, fighting alongside each other in a quest for all that is good and true. It’s a show heavily endorsed by the Church, even with its horror elements. More than one boy at the House has a poster of the duo in their private stalls. Someone walks by the security booth carrying two prop bloody demon heads; the eyes in them are black. Other than the props, it’s just like any other set Jared has visited—gruff security guard included.

Darcy sent him here with very specific instructions. Jared took care to write them down but he hasn’t eaten in a few days; his mind is foggy. But if he does his job well here and whoever has ordered him sends in a good review, he will get his chance at a few coupons to exchange for food. If he’s extra fortunate, he may even be able to stop at a market booth and purchase a sandwich. Well, that’s only if his Guest tips him on the side.

Stop it, Jared chides himself, his hands shaking from anxiety and hunger. Name. He’s supposed to give a fake name at the security booth. “Discretion and secrecy is of the utmost importance here,” Darcy, the House curator had informed him during his bath. “If you are asked by anyone why you are there, you know how you must reply. Do you understand?”

“M-my name is John Doe. I’m here… I won a contest,” Jared blurts out to the guard, trembling underneath his ratty jacket. “A tour of the set.”

With a grunt, the guard crosses something off a list on a clipboard and thrusts a plastic badge into Jared’s hands. It says—because Jared can read, he _can_ —V-I-S-I-T-O-R. Visitor. He knows that word. It means he is only here temporarily. The guard crams himself into the small plastic booth where phones and papers are kept and buzzes over an intercom. A crackle of static and the sound of a voice comes through, after which the guard points towards a set of trailers. “Go on. Trailer one.”

What Jared does is a necessary evil. He has been told that by some of the Guests that visit. They are often men of the Church. One would think that with so much time spent praying, they might be gentler in their use of their Family member. The Church has officially outlawed prostitution. Jared can’t remember a time when it wasn’t illegal. Regardless, Houses are successful if the Owners can pull it off. Jared’s House has fine Owners—they have managed to remain profitable and out of the Church’s grasp. Every week, Jared gets a Guest who is in some way associated with the Church.

“I said _get_ ,” the guard snarls at Jared. “What are you? Stupid?”

Realizing that he has drifted off, Jared hurries along right away. He weaves through the streams of people and emerges unscathed at the appropriate trailer. It is quite intimidating even for a trailer; it’s larger than any stall Jared has lived or resided in. His stall at the House is a space of five feet by five feet. He is kept there when he is not with a Guest and tends to any Guest that orders him in a stage room the Owners and Darcy put together. This trailer is at least… Jared counts… at least ten of his stalls lined up together.

A stall with a space of six by six just opened up a week ago and is still vacant. The girl that had occupied it before left suddenly when her Guest turned out to be her Soul Mate. It was a very grand affair and the Family talked about it all week. The Church views Soul Mates meeting as a manifestation of evil—because separating from a Soul Mate results in death—but in the world Jared is most familiar with, it is a cause for celebration.

Everyone has a Soul Mate. Family members whisper about potential leads at night. The stalls come alive with wishes and dreams. Jared has never participated in those late-night chatters, but the concept sounds nice. Although Family members are allowed to leave if they so wish, a large fee must be paid to break their contracts. Even if any of them manage to pay that fee on their own, which very few have, their lives after the House must be taken into consideration. No respectable business would ever hire them. Jared keeps his thoughts simple. Being here is the best possible outcome for him. Orphaned, without any education or money, working at a reputable House is the best he could have asked for in his situation. He hopes that maybe Darcy will put in a good word for him and toss his name in for a chance at the vacant stall. A whole foot of added space…

He’s drifted again.

Not too far from the set of trailers is a wide table with a buffet laid out. Jared licks his lips. He sees roast beef sandwiches cut to be conveniently held by people on the move; one could fit in his coat without too much hassle. A Guest beat him badly earlier this month and no one has ordered him while his face healed, therefore, he has run out of coupons. Darcy snuck him a piece of bread two days ago but until he works again, a meal is not an option. How could anyone just… place food out on a table? Jared wants to drape himself over the table and hide the food from other eyes. It’s his. His! He saw it first!

“Hey!”

Jared inhales sharply and turns back to the door of the trailer, where a man is standing in the doorway, looking impatient. He is a handsome Guest, though he does look cross. Dressed in fine looking clothes—a gray sweater and dark denim—he looks nothing like his character, who is often in the middle of battling a monster or one of the wicked.

“Get in,” the man hisses and steps aside, motioning for Jared to stop gawking and move.

Tripping over himself, Jared fumbles up the steps and slips in. The door is firmly shut. When the man walks, the trailer creaks slightly. Jared doesn’t have enough time to take in the details of his surroundings.

Sharp, calculating eyes examine Jared. A comment is made about the quality of what the House has sent over—“too scrawny”—but the man steps forward and grabs Jared’s chin. Jared winces but keeps still, allows his head to be tilted, and tries not to breathe too loudly. It’s dark in the trailer. The man smells like rich, spicy cologne. His fingers are calloused. As Jared is undressed by those fingers, his mind wanders. This man plays Dean. The few episodes that Jared has caught scenes of feature Dean fighting evil with his faith in Jesus and the goodness of the Church.

“This is a faithful Guest,” Darcy had told Jared during bath time. “He orders from us quite frequently. I trust that I need not elaborate the importance of this transaction.”

Cologne presses into Jared’s sinuses; the smell of it is overwhelming. “Shut up,” the man grumbles. Jared draws in a breath through his mouth. Somehow he has ended up naked on a narrow, plush bed with silk pillows. On his elbows and knees, with his ass in the air, the man takes out the plug Jared has had inserted for the past six hours. Darcy put it there. He mentioned that this Guest does not like to wait. This Guest uses Family as one might use tissues. Jared is his youngest yet, at just sixteen. The plug being removed so quickly hurts; Jared was unaware he made any noise. He is still unaware of any noise he’s making when the man slaps him and forces his legs apart.

With a cry, Jared feels pain.

The man grabs a fistful of Jared’s hair and pulls hard enough so that Jared’s eyes water.

“Guests enjoy roughing you up. Something about the nature of you that draws out that side of them.” Darcy’s words. Darcy’s words in his head as the man mounts him and pushes in with one thrust. He’s large. It is agony. Jared can’t keep quiet enough, can’t stay still. At this rate he will never get a coupon. And worse, he will ruin this transaction and report back to the House ashamed and useless. Guests speak to each other; they recommend certain Family members and encourage business that way. A good word might mean an extra coupon. A bad one…

“Ahhhuhhhgggh.” That betraying sound comes from Jared’s mouth. His tongue is thick and dry. The man drives into him the way one might shut a stubborn door. Jared isn’t hard. He can feel his cock but it just slaps uselessly against his belly. He feels the man’s cock more than his own; it’s swollen and twitching and purposefully missing Jared’s prostate. The angle at which it fucks into him causes the wrong kind of pressure in Jared’s body. Another noise and the man mutters, his breathing erratic, and soon Jared is being turned over. Before he can draw in another breath his mouth is pried open and the man’s cock stuffed inside. Jared chokes. The man withdraws his cock and slaps Jared hard enough to make his eyes roll back. Disoriented, Jared can dimly feel the man’s cock rub all over his face, the smooth, blunt head of it tap at his bottom lip.

Hiccupping, Jared holds his hands above his face.

No one can explain what it is about him that drives even-tempered individuals to rage in his presence. The man pushes his hands away and places a pillow over Jared’s face. It’s a luxurious pillow. Better than the tattered one Jared has in his stall.

The man lifts Jared’s hips up and shoves back inside him. When he is fully seated, he leans forward and balances himself with one hand on the bed and the other pushing the pillow down. Jared tries. He tries to keep his hands to his sides. His legs are slung over the man’s shoulders and he moves against the man’s muscles like liquid. But when the man begins to press the pillow down harder, Jared tenses up and foolishly grabs at the man’s hand.

“Don’t touch me!”

When the pillow is lifted, Jared coughs and sputters and begins to beg. He just wants to be in his stall. It’s okay if he doesn’t get a tip or a coupon. He can hear himself sob and scream as Dean Winchester beats the evil out of him and rams it back in, causing him to bleed from a tender place. There’s something bad about Jared. Something the Church knows about. It’s a little rotting portion of his soul that Dean can’t grasp, can’t fight off. Housed inside Jared, the piece is too stubborn. Jared rolls away, he’s not sure how but he falls off the bed and lands on his left wrist, twisting it badly. Trying to crawl away—anywhere, anywhere—he shouts when the man grabs his hair again and yanks him back, pulling him up by it.

The boys who have posters up of Dean Winchester have never had the actor who plays him as a Guest.

Whatever is rancid inside Jared doesn’t deter the man from fucking into him once more and filling him with come. The man’s jaw goes slack and his eyes roll back; his plush mouth is flushed.

He gives Jared a large tip and writes a five-star review, sending it via e-mail.

“Breaks so pretty,” he murmurs, tracing Jared’s mouth. “Almost wish I could order you again.”

Darcy arrives some time later.

A tarp is draped over Jared. Words are exchanged. Darcy places Jared in a wheelbarrow. Past the security booth, Jared hears Darcy say something he has never ever said to any Family member.

“I’m sorry.”

 

The Owners are concerned.

Although Jared received a five-star rating, the man has not been heard from since. He orders regularly—one boy under the age of eighteen every week. When news comes through that the man has been hospitalized for exhaustion, the Owners send him a coupon for a free Family visit. The coupon is returned in the mail two days later.

Jared knows these things because the stalls are busy with gossip. The show has been put on hiatus and many people are concerned for the man. He has many loyal fans and the network, owned by the Church, has invested a lot of money into his career and the show. Someone mumbles something about the man having a potential scandal on his hands. If anyone were to find out that he ordered Family from the House, he would be fired. Another boy whispers that the outcome would be worse than simply losing a job—the man would be professionally ruined. That kind of success—lauded and supported by the Church—doesn’t come to just anyone. His lifestyle, his comfort, his happiness… all of it would be gone.

Quietly, Jared listens.

He listens until he rolls onto his back and feels something strange.

A thorn grows from his heart to his lungs. Crowns of them lodge into the small of his back. Gasping, Jared’s eyes flutter. What’s happening? Is he asking this out loud? Does anyone notice him in his stall?

Blood fills his mouth.

He swallows it.

Sustenance.

 

“He’s dying.”

“Then I want him disposed of.”

“Sir?”

“Incinerated. That will work.”

“…”

“Darcy, you’ve grown soft. Dispose of the boy and get on with your duties this afternoon.”

“Shouldn’t… sir, shouldn’t we tell Mr. Ackles?”

“Of course not, Darcy! What a ridiculous notion.”

“But the boy… the boy is his…”

“Is his what, Darcy? Soul Mate? Come now, don’t tell me you honestly believe that rubbish?”

“I…”

“Is this the kind of treatment one gives to their Soul Mate, Darcy? The boy was returned to us in a worse state than all the others we have sent—combined. We tried medical assistance, Darcy, at your request and he hasn’t responded to any of it. I’m going to cut my losses and hire out for a replacement. He wasn’t a top earner anyway.”

“But… incinerated… please…”

“Look, Darcy! I don’t care _what_ you do as long as it’s done! The sooner the boy is dead, the sooner Mr. Ackles will feel better. Do you think the network will allow him leave for much longer? You know they’ll go snooping around and eventually find us at the center of it. Now stop dragging your feet and do as I say. You are the Curator of this House, Darcy, act like it. What have I told you about getting attached? Now, you’ll have an hour to finish this business and then I want you to run an errand for me.”

“Yes, sir.”

 

Darcy closes Jared’s eyes.

When the bonds of Soul Mates are broken, both parties suffer. However, age is an advantage. The older the partner, the better chance they have of surviving a break. Breaks are not as hard on the body for the one doing the rejection or initiating the separation. The man will spend a few more days in the hospital at most; he can and will survive without Jared. Exhaustion is a cover-up for what is really happening—the only way a Soul Mate is truly found is by having sex. But there’s no need to worry for the man’s situation. In just a few hours, the man will feel better. Just as soon as Darcy finishes what he’s rolled Jared outside for.

There is a pistol in Darcy’s left pocket. The weight of it causes it to thump against Darcy’s thigh as he walks and pushes Jared’s wheelchair. It has recently rained. There’s mud and dirt on the trail to the property further back from the House. This is a trail from which only Darcy returns. He never comes back with who he takes along. Jared learned that early on.

One of the wheels is squeaky.

Jared can no longer hold his head up. His mouth hangs open as a result. As Darcy hits a rough patch of trail, Jared groans softly.

At least this is not the incinerator.

Every minute that passes, something inside Jared—something different than the rot—dims and threatens to go out completely. What will happen? It hurts. It hurts in ways that make him long for physical pain. Simple pain. Name. Name? John Doe. Jared. My name is Jared.

_Jared, my name’s Jensen._

You hurt me.

_I did._

That’s okay.

_No, it’s not._

I’m going to die now, of course it’s okay. I wouldn’t worry anymore. But you know, if I could have had it another way, you know what I might have wanted? Can you tell? Oh, it’s very exciting.

_No, baby. Tell me._

Oh, you would have said, ‘Well hello there.’ And you would have held your hand out and invited me in and I wouldn’t know what to say but that’s okay because you’d be too busy kissing me to talk. Yeah, just like that. Mmhmm. Then you’d touch me here and here and here. And you’d ask me and I’d say, Yes, of course, oh please. Please, I need you. Please, I want you. Hold me close. Hold me tight. I’d try to be everything you’d want because I’m good at it too. I’d ride you and lean back and smile and work down harder, and you’d push up, up, up and ooooh yeah. You’d make me come first and then you’d come and then I’d be happy and you’d lay me down and clean me up and… and…

_Don’t._

I don’t even know what would happen next. What do people do after? Maybe… maybe that would be enough. Yeah, I guess… I guess so.

_It’s not like that._

I… I wouldn’t know.

_It’s not._

Oh.

 

A clicking sound can be heard in the distance.

 

He’s using the nice pistol.

_Don’t…_

Is it gonna hurt?

_I don’t…_

I hope it doesn’t hurt.

_No…_

Hey, if I’m buried outside, I get to see the stars, right?

…

 

The safety clicks off.

 

I feel so cold.

 

 

 

 

“Don’t shoot! Oh God, please, don’t shoot!”

 

Thorns lift from Jared’s heart. The tips are stained with his blood. They hover near—cautious.

Jared opens his eyes.

Stumbling towards him is not Dean Winchester.

It’s Jensen Ackles.

 

“Well hello there,” Jensen cries out, despair etched on his face, grief in his eyes. “Jared? Jared. Well hello there.” A haggard breath is drawn in. “Well hello there.”

Whatever was decaying inside Jared has deteriorated. The thorns break away. Hazel eyes meet green eyes and the world sets itself on a celestial axis. Everything is new.

“Well hello there,” Jared breathes back. “I… I won a contest.”


End file.
